


you hit the spot

by weatheredlaw



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Car Sex, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, No Refractory Period, Sex in the Bentley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 20:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21151973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: “Why not?” Crowley asked. “S’my car, isn’t it?”“Yes, but it’s yourcar! You...you really want to—”“Make a mess of it?”or:they fuck in the bentley





	you hit the spot

**Author's Note:**

> happy carsextober, which is a real official holiday, it's on all your calendars, it's not my fault if you don't know. for: moderately okay omens <3

_matter of factly   
don't know exactly what it is that you've got_   
_but ooh you hit the spot_

* * *

It had been a very lovely afternoon. Been a very lovely _day_, actually, though if that had anything to do with what was going on outside their bed, neither Crowley nor Aziraphale had any clue. They weren’t even really _doing_ much. Crowley had woken that morning and announced he wasn’t getting out of bed. Aziraphale couldn’t see any real issue with the idea, beyond the fact that he did engage in several morning time rituals. Crowley only waved him off when he offered him a cup of tea, and Aziraphale kissed the back of his neck before getting up and going downstairs to make a spot of breakfast.

By nine, he was back in bed, a second cup of tea on the nightstand, and a book open in his lap. Crowley had gotten up and opened the window while he was gone, and Aziraphale enjoyed the breeze as it swept in. Around noon, he decided a nap was a wonderful idea, put his book aside, and curled up beside Crowley and let himself drift off to sleep.

“Angel?”

“Hm?”

“You wanna go for a picnic?”

Aziraphale sat up. He’d been asleep for a few hours, it was close to dinner. “Now?”

“Nah. Tomorrow afternoon.”

Aziraphale raised a brow. “The radio said it might rain tomorrow, love. I’m not sure I want to risk it.”

Crowley rolled over and huffed. “What’s some bloke named _Reggie_ know about the weather?”

“I don’t think his name has anything to do with his qualifications, my dear. _But_, if you insist…”

Crowley grinned and rolled over, pinning Aziraphale to the bed and kissing his neck. “I do,” he murmured. “I do, I do, _I do._”

Aziraphale hummed contentedly, wiggling out of Crowley’s grasp and winding his arms around his waist. “I _have_ been wanting to take a drive.”

“Christ,” Crowley muttered, “you really do love me, don’t you?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Terribly so, I’m afraid.” He kissed Crowley’s brow. “Take me to dinner? I’ve been craving the little Indian place they put in by the post office.”

Crowley laughed and sat up. “Whatever you’d like, angel.”

* * *

In Crowley’s defense, when they’d packed the picnic basket, the wine, the blanket, and the books into the car, the sky had been a _lovely_ pale blue, with just a handful of clouds dotting the sky. He’d been rather _smug_ about it, muttering something as they got in the car about _Reggie_ and _unreliable __forecasts_.

By the time they’d settled into the preferred spot, storm clouds had rolled in, darkening the sky.

If it were possible to stonewall a rain storm, Crowley would have done it. Aziraphale looked on as he determinedly unpacked their sandwiches and uncorked the wine. He’d left his books in the Bentley to keep them safe, but Crowley was very certain things were going to be _just fine_, that it would pass in just a minute angel, don’t you worry. Aziraphale knew Crowley was capable of very powerful miracles — he wouldn’t have put it past him to obliviate an entire _storm system._

“Crowley—”

“Having a good time, angel?”

“Crowley, dear. It’s _raining._”

Crowley looked up at the sky, blinking against the oncoming drops. “Is it?”

Aziraphale sighed. “_Yes_.”

Crowley pulled off his sunglasses and _scowled_. As though it might _do_ something. “Bloody waste of a good day.”

“Well I _did_ tell you—”

“Yes, yes, _I know._” Crowley sighed, looking a bit like a wet cat as the rain started to come down a bit harder. With a quick flourish, Aziraphale cleared their things.

“We could wait it out,” he offered, extending Crowley his hand.

Crowley looked up at him and Aziraphale believed, for a moment, that he was just going to sit there, in demonic defiance of the rain. _But_, he took Aziraphale’s hand and let him pull him toward the car, where they scrambled into the backseat and, with a snap, Crowley had a light bit of air and some music going.

“Now _I think_—” Aziraphale reached into the basket and pulled out a sandwich. “This is a _lovely_ spot for a picnic.”

“The Bentley?”

“Of course! It’s your favorite thing, and we’re together, aren’t we? Which was the point of this whole ordeal?”

Crowled huffed. “_No._ The point of this _ordeal_, angel, was to do something nice for you, and enjoy a decent day outside. You know, sometimes I’m so _bloody_ sick of this country. I mean it’s the _summer_, why in the _hell_ is it—”

Aziraphale cut him off with a grape. Crowley chewed _furiously._

“Just try and enjoy yourself. _Listen!_ Listen, the rain sounds lovely on the windshield. Sounds _just _like when it hits the windows of the cottage. And I _know_ you like that,” Aziraphale added. Crowley’s cheeks turned a faint pink. They had spent their _last_ summer storm in bed all day. Aziraphale remembered it fondly. “And this is a lovely album you’ve put on. Is this Ella?” Crowley nodded. “Wonderful.” He moved closer, and Crowley leaned against the corner between the door and the back of the seat, letting Aziraphale leans against him.

“Comfortable, angel?” He sounded far more relaxed, now, and reached down for a bottle of wine. He took a long swig and passed it to Aziraphale.

“Oh,” he said, wiping wine from his mouth with the back of his hand, “_quite._”

Crowley sighed, and they lie that way for a while, as the storm raged on, growing louder and louder, until it was all Aziraphale could hear, save for ever-present sound of Crowley breathing.

* * *

Aziraphale was no longer comfortable and, with a groan, he sat up. The car was still running, the same Ella Fitzgerald CD playing without pause, and the storm had not let up. Aziraphale snagged Crowley’s phone from his pocket. _Nearly two_, he thought, and picked up a bunch of grapes from the basket and inhaled them.

Crowley shifted and blinked, looking around. “Where…”

“Still in the car. We fell asleep.”

“...Oh. Oh, well that was nice,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Time is it?”

“Almost two. Do you want to drive back?”

Crowley raised a brow. “No,” he said. “Why? You in a hurry to get somewhere, angel?”

“_Hardly._”

Crowley laughed and leaned forward, snagging the last few grapes and popping them in his mouth. “Good,” he said, and pulled Aziraphale in for a kiss. Aziraphale moaned softly against his mouth, dropping the empty grape brunch and reaching up to take Crowley’s face in his hands. He nipped Crowley’s bottom lip, and Crowley pulled back with a hiss. “_Angel._”

“We _could_ go home,” Aziraphale murmured. “Though I’ve half a mind to have you _here_, but I know you’d—”

He stopped. Crowley was looking at him very strangely, his expression a mixture of need and curiosity.

Aziraphale laughed. “_Surely_ you don’t—”

“Why not?” Crowley asked. “S’my car, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but it’s your _car!_ You...you really want to—”

“Make a mess of it?” Aziraphale nodded. “Well there’s no mess we’ve made we haven’t been able to, ah, _clean up_, angel.” Crowley reached out and cupped his cheek, drawing him back in. “And, frankly, I’ve half a mind to _let_ you have me here. So if it’s all the same to you…” His hand drifted down to the growing bulge in Aziraphale’s trousers. He pressed gently on it and Aziraphale groaned.

“_Crowley_…”

“What do you say?”

“_Yes,_” Aziraphale said, and surged forward, pinning Crowley against the leather seat and kissing him fiercely. “Oh, yes, _yes._”

“M’already hard,” Crowley muttered, swearing when Aziraphale rolled their hips together. “_Fuck_, just let me—” He snapped his fingers and the button and fly of his jeans came undone, just as Aziraphale found his own trousers loosened. He moaned as Crowley reached down and wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking slowly. “Like that?”

Aziraphale hummed. “You know I do.”

“Bet you’d like to be inside me, huh angel?”

“_Crowley_.”

“Ah, don’t be like that,” Crowley said gently, kissing him.

“There’s not much _room_—”

Crowley laughed. “Well _sure_,” he said, “if you’ve got no imagination.”

Aziraphale pulled back. “I have _imagination!_ And I assure you—”

Crowley kissed him again. Aziraphale melted into it, feeling a soft chill as his clothes were removed with a quick miracle, and the air from the Bentley washed over him. He shivered — Crowley rolled his hips up, forcing their cocks together, and Aziraphale gasped at the contact. It felt so _good_, different from the way things were at home, when it really only took a look or a question to get things started. Out here there was a very real possibility they could be seen, though the windows were already fogged from the rain and the air in the car.

“Roll over,” Crowley muttered, and moved them so Aziraphale was on his back. “Wanna ride you. Can I do that?”

“Of _course _you can.” Aziraphale ran his hands up and down Crowley’s arms, drinking in the sight of him. “You’re so _beautiful._”

Crowley laughed, leaning down to kiss Aziraphale’s neck and lave one tongue over a nipple. “I try,” he said, “for you.”

“And I adore you for it.”

“M’just gonna—” Crowley sat up again and let his head fall back for a moment, focusing on a miracle. Aziraphale reached between his ass cheeks to check and found Crowley slick and open for him. “Like that, too, do you?”

“Oh, I wish you’d have let me.”

“Later,” Crowley said. “Just have to...right now all I want is—” He took Aziraphale’s cock in hand and moved himself over it. “This is alright though, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale nodded. “Yes, my dear. It’s perfect. Now show me how _good_ you can be.”

Crowley moaned and lowered himself down on Aziraphale’s cock, closing his eyes as he took him. The rain continued beating down on the car, and Aziraphale fought the urge to fuck up and into him, _hard_. He wanted so much to just _take_, but he was happy to watch Crowley adjust to the size and feel of him, take in the hot press of Aziraphale’s cock inside him.

Aziraphale was so caught up in watching the slide of his cock into Crowley’s ass that he nearly missed the emotions playing across Crowley’s face. It was a flipbook of pleasure, love, joy, bliss, _joy_ — and, _oh_ the joy! The way Crowley’s mouth fell open and he _smiled_, now setting a steady pace for himself, taking Aziraphale’s cock again and again.

“How does it feel?” Aziraphale asked, and reached out to brush the back of his hand down the length of Crowley’s flushed and leaking cock.

“_Hn_—”

“How eloquent.”

“_Aziraphale_.” Crowley began fucking himself faster now. “You know how it feels,” he said, “you _know_ what you do to me.”

“Put it into words.”

“_Ha_, words, just—” Crowley forced himself down, _hard_, and cried out. Aziraphale arched his back off the seat and groaned. Crowley always felt wonderful, felt _perfect_ around him, and he was just as happy as Crowley was. The car...the car was a place of love. It _was_ love, and it couldn’t help but amplify it. All those months ago, rumbling down a dark village road, and Aziraphale hadn’t been able to _see it_. But now, but _now!_ Now he could! Now, it was everywhere, it was all around them, and Crowley was _laughing_ above him as he took Aziraphale’s cock with passion.

“_Tell me_,” Aziraphale managed. He was so close, but he was quite sure they could keep this up, and he had no desire to stop when they were finished. He was going to fuck Crowley until the sun came down, until they were both a blubbering, come-slick mess in the backseat of this _infernal_ car.

“Feels like Eden,” Crowley muttered. He had a hand on the back of the driver’s seat, keeping himself up. “Feels like Paris and the bloody _blitz._ Feels like the day you opened that stupid shop. Feels like seeing you after a hundred _fucking_ years, Aziraphale.”

“Oh, my dear.”

“I was never happier than when I was with you. And now all the bloody time, it’s just us. Just you and me, and I—”

Crowley came, striping his chest. Some of it hit Aziraphale’s stomach.

“_Fuck,_ Aziraphale—”

“I’m—” Aziraphale came, too, filling Crowley with his spend.

“So fucking good,” Crowley said.

“Yes, _yes_—”

Crowley _snarled._ “Don’t you dare stop. Don’t you _dare_—”

Aziraphale rose up with a gasp, crushing their mouths together and forcing Crowley back. It was a struggle to stay connected as he pressed Crowley into the seat of the car. Crowley groaned as Aziraphale kept fucking him, come dripping out of his hole, smeared on Aziraphale’s cock. Aziraphale reached down and drug his fingers through the mess on Crowley’s chest and licked them clean.

“Aziraphale, _yes, yes, yes_—” The car rocked violently back and forth now as Aziraphale fucked Crowley without abandon. “If you break this car,” Crowley said suddenly, “I will _never _speak to you again.”

“Liar,” Aziraphale snapped, and thrust into him, hard. “Liar, liar, _liar._”

“Demon, demon, _demon._”

“You can’t lie to me,” Aziraphale muttered, “not properly. Now be good for me and come again.”

“Oh, I can’t, I—”

“You can,” Aziraphale said. “We both can. Just a little more. A _little more_—”

“Fuck,” Crowley snarled, “_fuck._” He wrapped his fingers around his cock and fisted it until he was coming again, clenching around Aziraphale. Come hit his neck and chin and landed on the door of the Bentley. Aziraphale said nothing. He only knew what he wanted, which was to fuck Crowley until he couldn’t _stand_ himself. And then perhaps for an hour more.

Aziraphale laughed and came again. He could _feel_ how much come was slipping out of Crowley, feel what a mess they’d made of one another — and he wasn’t done.

Aziraphale pulled out and Crowley wined. “On your stomach,” Aziraphale snapped, and Crowley grinned, going to it. It was cramped, but there was just the perfect amount room for Aziraphale to pull Crowley onto his hands and knees and back onto his cock. Come slid down his thighs and onto the soft red leather of the backseat. Aziraphale pulled his fingers through it and reached around, pushing them into Crowley’s mouth.

“Taste yourself, my love. So _good_, isn’t it?”

“Yes, _yes_—”

“How many more times should I fill you? How many more times do you want to come?”

Crowley dropped his head onto the seat and _sobbed._ “I don’t know,” he said, “I don’t _know_.”

“Twice more? I’d like to be home in time for dinner, I know you’ve got something planned.”

“Literally have _nothing_ planned, angel, ‘cept getting _fucked_—”

“Well. We can fix that.” Aziraphale bent over and kissed between Crowley’s shoulders. “Two more. Two more and then we can go home.”

Crowley shook under him. “Never want to go home,” he muttered, “just live right here, right here with your cock in me until the whole bloody world goes to hell again.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“_You_ make me that way,” Crowley said, “you—” He cried out and came again, making more of a mess of the Bentley’s backseat. “God, my _car._ Look what you’ve done to my car, angel.”

“Not done yet.”

“_Fuck—_” Crowley pushed back to get more pressure, to get _more._ Aziraphale knew that every thrust was striking him as deep as he could, pushing insistently on Crowley’s prostate, driving him closer to his last orgasm. “Not gonna fill me up again angel?”

“Saving it,” Aziraphale said, and _slammed_ into him again.

Crowley wailed, slipping on the seat and struggling to push himself onto his hands again. Aziraphale decided it was a good place for him, though, and pushed him back down.

“You _monster_,” Crowley snarled. “You absolute _beast_.”

“Just...just one _more_,” Aziraphale said. “And then I’ll come, I’ll give you everything.”

Crowley whimpered as Aziraphale slowed down. “Let...let me taste?”

“You want me to come in your mouth?”

“_God_, yes.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I can, of course.”

“Want all of you,” Crowley muttered, and Aziraphale could tell he was well and truly gone, now. He rested his cheek against the leather of the seat and licked his lips. Spit slicked his chin and neck, mixing with his own come. He was so fucking _gorgeous_, Aziraphale could hardly stand it, and he nearly came right there.

“Once more?” Aziraphale asked. “Come for me now, my dear, come so I can give you everything—” Aziraphale had hardly finished. He felt the tight clench of Crowley’s muscles around his cock, saw the come sliding along the seat as Crowley sobbed again, digging his nails into the sweat-slicked leather.

“_Aziraphale._”

“So good for me.”

“Yes, just—”

Aziraphale was desperate to come again. He rolled Crowley over and moved up to straddle his chest, pressing his wet, _wet_ cock against Crowley’s lips and _coming_ into his open mouth. “_Fuck_,” he muttered, and came and _came_. Crowley was loose and fucked out and swallowed as much as he could while the rest dripped over his cheek and down his neck.

“_Angel_…”

“Oh, that was good. That was _very_ good.”

“Hm?” Crowley looked exhausted beneath him, completely blissed out. “S’good?”

“I did say that.”

“Mmm. Can’t...can’t think.” He put a hand on his chest and it came away sticky. “_Shit_.”

“Yes, we ah...we _did_ make a mess.”

With a groan, Crowley sat up, blinking away the haze of sex and looking around. “Christ,” he muttered. “We did. Sorry, love,” he said, and put a hand on the Bentley’s backseat. The mess on them and her seats disappeared. “Poor girl. Really did a number on her.”

“I’m very sorry,” Aziraphale said sincerely. “I think we did get a bit carried—”

Crowley kissed him, and Aziraphale could taste his own come on Crowley’s tongue. He moaned.

“Did it make you happy, angel?”

“Oh, _very._”

“Then it was worth it.” He tipped their foreheads together, and they sat for a while as the rain continued on. It had let up a bit. Aziraphale reached down and took another bunch of grapes from the basket, and they shared them.

“Probably should head back,” Crowley said.

“Mmhm.”

“Fancy a takeaway?”

“Well I _did_ work up an appetite.”

“Should have told me. A minute ago I was all full of—” Aziraphale kissed him again.

“I can always fill you up later,” he murmured. “If that’s what you’d like.”

Crowley swallowed. “_Yeah_,” he said. “That’s, um. That’s...yeah.”

Aziraphale grinned and, with a snap, they were dressed. “Feeling up to a drive?”

Crowley scowled and clambered into the driver’s seat. “_Christ_, angel. It’s like you don’t even _know _me.”


End file.
